


Care To Dance?

by followmetoyourdoom



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: F/M, Oneshot, just some short sweet fluff :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-24
Updated: 2015-11-24
Packaged: 2018-05-03 03:09:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5274305
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/followmetoyourdoom/pseuds/followmetoyourdoom
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little something I've been wanting to write for a bit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Care To Dance?

“Care to dance, My Lady?” Chat asks her one evening as they pass the Maison de la Radio; and maybe it’s the milky twilight that weaves silver highlights throughout his hair; or maybe it’s the shimmering fireflies that fabricate tiny streams of light through the dark night...

But whatever it is, she finds herself curiously saying, “Yes.”

And of all the answers Chat had expected Ladybug to give, it had never crossed his mind that a simple ‘yes’ could be one of them.

His bravado falls for a moment, but then it’s back, all coy upturned lips and sparkling mischievous eyes.

With the delightful trickle of music emanating from the venue behind them, Chat takes Ladybug’s hand, his other settling around her waist. She in turn cautiously grips his shoulder and intertwines their fingers more securely.

And then Chat takes the lead and they’re moving, sweeping along the bank of the Seine with nervous smiles on their faces and wishful thoughts in their hearts.

But something isn’t quite right.

Their dancing is slightly off-beat and Chat’s steps are too hesitant, too tentative, for even the delicate music to match.

Their dance falls short without even meaning to. It’s a dance based on the foolish hope of a young boy who seeks to impress his Lady but lacks the knowledge to.

Ladybug stops him with a chuckle, letting her arms drop, “You don’t know how to waltz, do you?”

Chat follows suit, but refuses to acknowledge what they both know, “Psh, of course I do!” He strikes a pose with a flourish and winks at her, which only earns him a raised eyebrow from his partner. “So maybe I haven’t practised in a while,” he shrugs, and doesn’t quite meet Ladybug’s eye when he answers.

Determined to get him to tell her the truth, Ladybug simply tilts her head and waits.

It takes a while, but Chat finally gives in, “I’ve never waltzed before in my life,” he admits in a muffled voice, hanging his head in shame.

The sound that escapes Ladybug’s lips makes him look back up. She laughs, not in a mocking way, but in a way that makes him want to listen to her merriment for the rest of his life, even if he has to ridicule himself over and over again. It would be worth it.

“Come here, silly kitty,” she says softly, capturing his hand in hers and placing her hand on his waist. “I’ll teach you.”

Once he’s gotten over his initial shock of having Ladybug so close, of having her aromatic vanilla scent pleasantly overwhelming him, and her fingers digging ever so sweetly into his side, Chat smiles gratefully and positions his hand on her shoulder as she had on his not too long ago.

Gently she begins explaining, demonstrating as she goes.

There’s a few hiccups as they dance. Chat still mis-steps sometimes - including, on one occasion, on his own tail, which he then wraps round the two of them, not quite touching either.

But gradually, he learns.

He learns to let her lead, for she knows so much more than he. He learns to angle his body just so and begins moving as confidently as he does when fencing. He learns to feel the music and share it with his partner, just as she too shares it with him.

Their dance becomes perfectly imperfect without even meaning to. It’s a dance based on the foolish - but honest - hope of a young boy who doesn’t need to impress his Lady, and the kindness of a young girl who willingly shares her wisdom and expertise, without question, with the one boy who truly matters.

They carry on dancing long after the music petters out, so caught up in their own private world that they don’t notice how time flies. Or if they do, they care not.


End file.
